


Inspiration Day: Song Titles

by lanalucy



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Attempted Seduction, Character Death, Community: bsg_epics, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Horny Teenagers, Implied Sexual Content, Post-Canon, Skinny Dipping, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanalucy/pseuds/lanalucy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theme: song titles as fic titles<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something's Not Right Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Something's Not Right Here (One Republic)

“This isn’t right, Kara,” Karl said as the bush they were crawling through smacked into his face again.

“Quit bein’ a pansy, Karl.”

“We’re gonna get caught.”

“Karl! I’ve been doin’ this all year. We’re not going to get caught.”

He followed her until they were flat against the building’s wall. “Are you sure ab-”

“Shhh!” Her hand grabbed behind her at his t-shirt. She peeked around the corner, then immediately popped her head back and flattened herself against the wall, still with her hand bunched around the shirt on his belly.

He felt like a creep thinking about her bunching up his t-shirt on purpose. She was his best friend, and friends didn’t think about each other that way. He was startled out of the vaguely erotic direction of his thoughts by Kara disappearing around the corner, and her hand tugging hard on his shirt.

“Okay, he’ll make one more round before we get to the door, so pay attention, Karl.”

He was paying attention. Unfortunately for him, it was to her ass in those tight jeans. “Uh, yeah. One more round. Got it.”

“Get your eyes off my ass, Karl.”

_Busted._

She stopped once more, transferred her hand from his shirt to his hand, and linked her fingers in his. “Okay, one last run, as soon as he turns the corner. You ready?”

They got in the door, just barely, and Kara led him through the darkened halls to the humid room off the gym. The moon coming in the high windows glittered on the surface of the water, and sweat popped out on every bit of exposed skin.

“Toldja we wouldn’t get caught,” she gloated. His eyes about popped out of his head when she started stripping right there in front of him, dropping her clothes in a little pile. 

“Uh, Kara?”

She looked up at him from under her lashes and smirked. “Whatsa matter, Karl? Never seen a girl naked before?” A hint of fear skimmed just below the surface of her belligerent confidence, then it went away as she grinned again and deliberately unhooked her bra and held it up in front of his face before opening her fingers and dropping it. “Who said sneaking out of the house isn’t educational?”

He swallowed hard and said, “Uh, definitely not me.” His eyes were glued to her naked breasts. _Gods. He’d known his friend was stacked, but hells. How was he supposed to not think of this next time he whacked off?_

“Karl? Got enough fantasy material? Get naked. We’re here to skinnydip, not stare at each other.” She glanced down, smirked again, and backed toward the edge. “I’m jumping in. You have until I surface to get your clothes off and get in.” She stepped back until she fell off the edge.

He’d never stripped faster in his life. When he broke the surface, Kara was right there, her legs tangling with his, and whatever relief he’d gotten from the cool temperature of the water was negated by the feel of her body brushing his.

“Hey, Karl. I lied to you.”

“About what, Kara?”

“You know how I always have a story for who I left the party with every weekend?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s never true. I let people think whatever they want because they’re going to anyway, and it keeps away the people who are going to give me crap.”

“So, what are you saying? That you haven’t slept with as many guys as you’ve said?”

“No. I’m saying that I haven’t slept with any. I’ve been waiting for someone I could trust.”

“So you’ve picked somebody? What? You want me to talk to him, make sure he’s going to be nice to you?”

She looked away for a moment, then back at him. “No. I know he’ll take care of me.”

“You going to tell me who it is?”

“Guess I’m pretty bad at this, if you don’t know.”

“Kara! How’m I supposed to know who-” _Oh._

When she pulled back, both of them breathless, she asked, “Is it okay with you, Karl? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He affected a nonchalance he most definitely wasn’t feeling and reassured her. “Yeah, Kara. It’s okay. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I trust you.”

It wasn’t until many years later that he realized what a gift Kara Thrace had given him by placing her faith in him. In the moment, though, all he could think was _Guess nice guys don’t always finish last._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Followed by I Think We're Alone Now.
> 
> This is the beginning of a series entitled Home Is Where the Heart Is.


	2. Fallen Embers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fallen Embers (Enya)

Kara watched helplessly as the blaze consumed everything in its path, including the spare cabin Lee had built on this spot. She’d been surprised that the din of the fleeing animals hadn’t wakened him, but even with her standing over his bed, trying desperately to knock anything over and wake him, he’d slumbered on.

So now she stood, surrounded by an out of control prairie fire, watching one of the people she’d loved most burn to ashes. Then she felt a hand in hers, and she couldn’t help the tear that trickled down one cheek. “This isn’t how I wanted to see you again, Lee.”

He squeezed her hand in reply, perhaps stunned silent by the sight of his home, and him along with it, going back to the earth from whence it came.


	3. You're the One That I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: You're the One That I Want (Grease soundtrack)

Kara sat at the bar, pretending to drink the ambrosia in front of her, reflecting on the last six months. After her accident, she’d had to take an extended medical leave, and purely on a whim, had contacted the office of the Secretary of Education to find out if there might be some sort of floating arts thing she could volunteer to do in the primary schools.  
  
The Secretary’s aide, Billy, had called her back, setting up an appointment for her to come in and talk to Ms. Roslin. Kara had almost backed out at the idea of having an “appointment” with the Secretary of Education - what did she know that Ms. Roslin didn’t about educating kids?  
  
But she’d made the appointment. And kept it. Ms. Roslin was surprisingly down-to-earth for a politician, and they had ended up talking for two hours about the variety of opportunities engendered by arts education. Ms. Roslin had invited her to continue the discussion over dinner, and they’d gone to a local hole-in-the-wall diner where the owner had greeted Laura Roslin effusively.   
  
Laura had suggested they let the cook decide what to serve them, and the resulting food had been excellent. After dinner, Laura had asked if Kara had a studio, or any artwork that she could see, to get an idea what sort of classes Kara could assist in. It had been scary, but Kara had invited Laura to her tiny studio later in the week, and Kara had nearly ripped holes in her palms waiting for the woman to say something. Anything! Finally, she’d turned to Kara.  
  
 _”These are remarkable, Kara. You’ve got a very unique style, and emotion shows in every piece. I think I could tell you when you were angry or sad or depressed or excited when you painted each of these.”_  
  
 _Kara didn’t know what to say, but she was intrigued. She held Laura’s eyes and pointed randomly._  
  
 _“Yes. You were upset over something when you painted this. Drinking, too, I bet. And it was something to do with your job.”_  
  
 _Kara looked at the painting in question and widened her eyes. She’d painted that one drunken night after she’d had to go to the Commandant of the school to lodge a complaint about Zak Adama. The boy had been disturbingly persistent, going so far as to follow her home one night. The Commandant had read her the riot act about filing a complaint about an Adama, and had told her following through could jeopardize her job at the Academy._  
  
 _She looked back at Laura. “How’d you do that?”_  
  
 _“It wasn’t me. You paint what you’re feeling, and it makes for some truly beautiful work.”_  
  
That night something had changed between them, and they’d begun spending at least three evenings a week on the phone or having dinner together. Kara had never spent so much time with someone without sleeping with them, and she was completely out of her depth with Laura Roslin.  
  
Then Laura had showed up at Kara’s studio one night when Kara had butt-dialed her. She’d stood near the doorway for nearly an hour before Kara had noticed her. Kara had turned to toss her shirt on the table by the door and had hit Laura instead.  
  
She’d tossed the paintbrush to the floor and walked to Laura, pulling her into a kiss. Somehow she’d ended up against the door; Laura had unhooked her bra and was massaging her breasts, and Kara had been ready to frak Laura on the floor. It hadn’t happened - not that night.

The next four and a half months had been blissful for Kara. Laura was well-read and extremely intelligent, understood when Kara needed to isolate herself. And she was a hellion in bed. Kara had not expected that from that cool, buttoned-down exterior.  
  
Then two weeks ago, Laura had begun to withdraw. She missed dinner a few times. Didn’t answer the phone when Kara called. Stopped coming to the studio to surprise Kara. And tonight they’d fought.   
  
 _Laura opened the door to Kara’s knock. She looked angry, and Kara automatically pulled back emotionally to protect herself._  
  
 _“What do you want, Kara?”_  
  
 _“It’s our night to have dinner and go to the bookstore for the poetry reading.”_  
  
 _“I’m not going.” She looked Kara up and down, then sneered, “I hate going to those things. I don’t know why you drag me to them.”_  
  
 _Kara’s eyes began to water. Laura hated the poetry readings? “You don’t hate them. They were your idea. And the sex is never better than after poetry night. What the frak is wrong with you tonight?”_  
  
 _“There’s nothing wrong with me. Just go away.” When Kara had stood there staring at her, Laura had pointed down the road and shouted, “Just GO!” Kara ran._  
  
She looked at her phone - nothing from Laura.  _She was scared about something, and I just ran like a little girl at the first hint of violence. Laura is not my mother. She’s not going to hurt me. Not that way._  
  
She slapped some paper cubits on the bar, put the ambrosia she hadn’t even touched on top of them, and headed for the door.  
  
She put her helmet on and rode through the darkened streets to Laura’s house. She didn’t knock, using her key instead. She set her keys and helmet on the table by the door, and went to find Laura.  
  
She was in the bathroom, lying on the floor, had clearly been vomiting into the toilet. Kara got a washcloth wet and sat down behind Laura, pulling her into her lap.   
  
“Kara?” Laura’s words were slurred.  
  
“I’m here, Laura. I don’t know what’s got you scared, but I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the beginning of a series entitled The Healing Arts.


End file.
